


A Matter of Need

by scarletmanuka



Series: A Matter of Love [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sibling Incest, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 11:25:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10696038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/pseuds/scarletmanuka
Summary: The brothers are forced at attend a charity ball by Mummy, but she has another surprise in store for them.Thanks to LadyGlinda for being my beta :)





	A Matter of Need

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【麦夏/授权翻译】【Mycroft/Sherlock】A matter of Need](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15414627) by [scarletmanuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/pseuds/scarletmanuka), [sherlydear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlydear/pseuds/sherlydear)



It wasn’t often that the Holmes brothers got roped into attending posh galas by Mummy, but tonight was one of those times. Their mother may not have acted like a typical member of high society (she had caused shock and scandal by not only becoming a mathematician, but also by marrying a common lecturer), but she still moved in such circles. A childhood friend was hosting a black tie ball in support of research into childhood cancer and Mummy had purchased tickets for not only Father and herself, but her two sons. Both Mycroft and Sherlock had fought tooth and nail to avoid the obligation, but the family matriarch was unrelenting.

So it was that they both found themselves donning tuxedos and piling into one of Mycroft’s black town cars, neither looking forward to the event. Thankfully there was a silver lining, Sherlock noted as he eyed his impeccably dressed brother sitting next to him. Mycroft may have worn suits everyday, but Sherlock had rarely seen him so dressed up and he found his eyes lingering on the way the tux accentuated his lithe figure and made the blue of his eyes pop. The sneaky glances Mycroft stole back indicated that Sherlock scrubbed up rather well himself. 

Lady Jasmine Huntington-Smythe and her husband resided on a large property just outside of the city limits, and they took in the monstrous residence as the car pulled round the circular drive to deposit them in front of the steps that led up to the ornate double doors. They stepped out and Sherlock swallowed down the urge to take Mycroft’s hand, to announce to everyone that he was taken. He knew his brother would turn heads tonight and as much as Mycroft enjoyed seeing the fire of jealousy spark behind Sherlock’s blue-green eyes, he himself found the emotion disconcerting. He would be miserable enough as it was over the course of the evening and didn’t want his own brain adding to the torment.

They were shown through into the grand ballroom at the back of the ground floor, the entire back wall of the room made up of French doors, all thrown open to allow the warm, summer breeze to circulate. The doors overlooked a beautifully landscaped garden, dotted with fountains and ancient rose bushes in full bloom, all arranged to lead down the gently sloping incline to the centrepiece of the grounds - a neatly clipped hedge maze. From the house’s elevated position they could see statues and ornaments dotting the interior of the maze, and in the centre a large fountain. They stood, taking in the sight as they waited for Lady Jasmine to finish greeting the couple who had arrived before them. Eventually she finished her prattling and turned to them. “Oh my! Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes! It’s been an age since I’ve seen you boys.” She pulled them close to press light kisses to their cheeks. Her greying hair was pulled into a tight bun and she wore a low cut, flowing gown that would look more suitable on a woman of twenty, not sixty. “If it wasn’t for seeing you on the television, Sherlock, I’d scarcely recognise you. You’ve grown so much!”

“Two decades does tend to change a person,” he said, trying his best to soften the snarky undertones as he pulled back from her hands that were pinching his cheeks. 

“Yes, I suppose it does. How time has flown! Your parents arrived earlier - they’re staying here with me for the weekend so your mother and I can have a long overdue catch up. I’m sure they’ll be down shortly. But for now, please get yourselves a drink and enjoy the evening.”

“Thank you, Lady Jasmine,” Mycroft replied before Sherlock’s snark could be fully released. 

“Oh, Mycroft,  _ please -  _ after all these years, Jasmine is fine.” the woman said with a wink. She then turned and left in a swirl of silk to greet more of her guests.

“This is torture,” Sherlock moaned, his eyes surveying the growing crowd.

“Don’t exaggerate, brother mine. It could always be worse.”

His words turned out to be prophetic when their parents hunted them down half an hour later. The majority of the guests had arrived and were milling around the grand room, sipping expensive champagne and eating hors d'oeuvres. The two brothers had stationed themselves in a far corner where they could avoid the throng of people, neither feeling like making small talk. Mummy, resplendent in a satin lavender gown waved across at them as she spotted them and dragged Father across the dance floor. “Oh, boys! You look magnificent,” she gushed, pulling them in for a crushing hug. 

“Thank you, Mummy,” Mycroft told her politely. “You look absolutely ravishing.”

She nudged at their father’s side with her elbow. “Your father agrees if his earlier actions were any indication.”

“ _ Mummy _ !” Sherlock gasped in horror as their father turned bright red and grinned awkwardly.

“Oh, there’s no need to be alarmed, Sherlock,” she told him. “It’s a perfectly natural human reaction.”

“Which your children do  _ not _ need to hear about!” he protested.

“I rather thought you’d be happy for us, that the spark is still there after all these years.”

“Oh, stop teasing him, love,” Father chided her. He gave the sputtering Sherlock a kindly look. “Just ignore her, boys.”

“How can I?” the detective demanded, “When that image is now burned into my brain.”

“Always so uptight, Sherlock,” she told him. “I rather think it’s time you discovered what you’re missing out on.” She looked across at Mycroft. “You too.” The two brothers exchanged panicked looks as their mother took a hand each and dragged them across the floor, heading it seemed towards a small group standing near the bar. “This is a very special group of people. Mostly the sons of people I went to school with, so all around your ages, and all have gone on to become very successful in their fields. At every social event I’ve been to, I’ve noticed that they gravitate to each other, and it wasn’t long before I figured it out. Every single one of them is either gay, bisexual, or bicurious. Dear Jasmine loves to gossip, and so I also happen to know that they are all presently single. It’s time to dip your toes in, boys.”

Sherlock dug his heels in and came to an abrupt stop, glaring at his mother. “I don’t need you playing matchmaker, Mummy! And I’m sure Mycroft feels the same.” Especially since they’d already matched with each other.

She reached up and patted his cheek. “Oh, Sherlock, I’m not playing matchmaker. I’m simply encouraging you to connect with other people. Do I honestly think that someone in that handful of people is your soulmate? No. But do I think that perhaps there’s someone there that you could have some fun with? Absolutely.” 

He stared at her, horrified, unable to comprehend why his mother was encouraging him to have a one night stand with a complete stranger. A glance across at Mycroft told him the disbelief was mutual. He opened his mouth to protest but the only thing that came out was an undignified squeak.

Mummy rolled her eyes at their reactions. “How on earth did your father and I raise such  _ prudes _ . As much as I would love for you both to enjoy a...physical connection with someone here tonight, I understand that I don’t dictate your desires. What I can dictate however is that you are both to stop being unsociable brats and mingle with Jasmine’s guests. And you can start with that group.” Her eyes narrowed. “And if I see either of you attempting to slink off without giving it your best try, I shall be  _ most  _ disappointed.” She pointed a finger at their destination and then turned and walked back towards Father, expecting her sons to comply without complaint.

Sherlock turned wide eyes on his brother. “When did Mummy become a pimp?” he demanded.

Mycroft had been standing with his mouth hanging slightly open, completely blindsided for the first time in a long time. The fact that it was their mother who had managed that would later be a bone of contention for him. Presently, he managed to close his mouth and control his shock. “I suppose she just wants us to be happy.”

“We  _ are _ happy!”

“Yes, Sherlock, but she doesn’t know that, does she.”

A frustrated whine escaped from Sherlock’s mouth as he looked over and saw their parents watching them. Mummy made a shooing motion with her hands and he glared at her, before straightening his back and catching Mycroft’s eye. “Fine, let’s get this over and done with, shall we? The sooner this lot have discovered we’re completely unsociable and utter bastards, the sooner we can get back to having a proper conversation with just the two of us.”

Mycroft grinned at him, reading his intentions. “Oh, Sherlock, you are positively evil. I love it. Let’s do this.”

With a strategy agreed upon, the two brothers descended upon the group. Conversation halted and every head swivelled towards them, Sherlock feeling much like a deer that had stumbled onto a pack of wolves. Fresh blood was rare in these circles and considering the way mothers gossiped, he knew that these men would not only know exactly who they were but their sexuality and ‘official’ relationship status. He bit back a scowl as he noted the very appreciative glances one of the men was giving Mycroft already, and schooled his features to ‘bored’.

“Gentleman,” Mycroft greeted them cordially. “Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes. Pleasure to meet you.”

“We were told you chaps would be here,” one of them said, holding out a hand to shake. He had dark blonde hair, artfully messed in a manner that told the observer he might be wearing a tux, but he was more fun when it was removed, and eyes so green that Sherlock was positive they must be contact lenses. “Harry Wedgewood-Spencer. Lovely to meet you.” The detective shook his hand once Mycroft had let it drop and quickly made his deductions:  _ works in the finance industry, numerous office affairs - mostly with married men, recovering from a flare up of genital herpes. _

The group in turn introduced themselves and Sherlock and Mycroft armed themselves with deductions.

“Matthew Crompton-Browne,” said the youngest of the men, smiling nervously behind his beakish nose.  _ Only recently come out, taking over the running of the family estate, doesn’t get along with father, had speech therapy as a child to overcome a stutter. _

“Nice to meet you. Darryl Howard-Trench.” Tall, dark and tanned, and very confident.  _ Physically fit, plays numerous sports, will throw in with the staff to work the property, compulsive liar. _

“Simon De Clare. How are you?” Several years older than Mycroft, short and stocky, with a manicured beard.  _ Recently divorced, two children, pilfering from the family trust, claustrophobic. _

The final man to be introduced was the one making eyes at Mycroft and Sherlock seethed as he not only held onto his brother’s hand for much longer than necessary, but brought his other hand up to cup the back of Mycroft’s. “William Barrett-Lennard. It’s a  _ pleasure _ to meet you,” he practically purred. He was broad with a strong jaw, his blue eyes framed by thick black eyebrows.  _ Banker, git, had a blueberry muffin before coming here, slimy bastard, didn’t shave as he thinks he looks better with stubble, arsehole, probably has a small penis, you can let go of his hand now before I fucking kill you, you pompous fucking twat. _

Mycroft succeeded in pulling his hand away and Sherlock had to force himself to not crush the bastard’s hand when he was given a cursory shake. 

“So, what do you boys do then?” Harry asked, sipping on his champagne. 

“Oh, I’m rather boring and occupy a minor position in Her Majesty’s Government,” Mycroft responded. “Sherlock here is the one with the exciting job.”

“Oh?” Matthew asked curiously, inching closer to Sherlock. 

“I’m a consulting detective,” he replied in a bored voice, ignoring the way the youngest man was almost plastered against his side now. He noticed Mycroft’s eyes narrowing dangerously and felt warmth bloom in his belly.

“Oooh! I’ve heard about you,” the man gushed. “You’re the hat detective that tags along with the police!”

Sherlock gave him a withering glare and Matthew shrank back from it. “I do not  _ tag _ along with the police. Scotland Yard call upon me when they have a case that is too difficult for them to solve. Which is constantly.”

“Must be exciting,” the young man said, attempting to recover from his accidental insult.

“It has its moments.”

“Didn’t you fake your own death or something a few years ago?” William asked. “That must have been horrible for your family, to put them through something like that.” He gave Mycroft a sympathetic smile.

“My family were well aware of what I was doing.”

“Oh? And what could have been so important? Did your lover’s wife find you and hunt you down?” He chuckled, winking at the rest of the group.

“Can your limited intellect only process half a story? You were obviously aware of current events at the time to know my death was faked, but didn’t pick up that I had been dismantling the organisation of a murderous sociopath.”

“And how did that go?” William asked him in a condescending tone, as if he was a child.

“England didn't fall, so I’d say he succeeded,” Mycroft drawled.

“You must have made Mummy and Daddy very proud,” the aristocrat said with a smirk.

“I wonder if he got a merit certificate from the Queen,” Darryl said to William, causing the men to laugh.

“He could add it to the collection he has from Scotland Yard,” the banker quipped.

Sherlock opened his mouth to fire off a biting reply but was stopped by Mycroft’s warm hand on his arm. They shared a look and Sherlock knew that Mycroft would handle it. “I find your methods confusing,” he said to William in a mild voice.

“How so?” the man asked, clearly not understanding.

“You’ve not been able to take your eyes off me, you’re overly tactile towards a complete stranger, and you’ve been mentally undressing me since the moment you saw me. You’re hoping to get me into bed by the end of the evening.” He stated it all as facts, as if it should be obvious to all there. “Yet, the way you go about your clumsy courting attempt is to stand there and disparage my brother right in front of me. As if denigrating him would be some sort of aphrodisiac to me. Does that tactic work often for you? Is that how you got into Harry’s pants? Insult his sisters until he was just gagging for it?” He looked across at the blonde with a question in his eyes. “Is that how it happened, Harry? Did he have you begging for it by whispering slanderous facts about Holly and Grace?”

“How did you know we’d slept together?” Harry choked out, his cheeks flushing.

“Obvious.” Sherlock muttered.

“How?” William snapped.

“The way Harry looks at you,” Mycroft explained. “He’s been sneaking glances the whole time, plus rubbing at his collarbone, touching a mark you obviously left there during your liaison. The glares he’s been giving me - the object of your desire his evening - show me he’s wanting another tryst with you, and is upset and jealous that you’re not interested. And then there’s the way you’ve been subconsciously adjusting your trousers, perhaps to stop the wool from scratching at your rather sensitive member. Did your parents never teach you about safe sex? You really should have worn a condom, William.”

“What? Why?” his eyes snapped to Harry’s who flinched away guiltily. 

“Your latest conquest has left you with the gift that keeps on giving,” Mycroft informed him dryly, only Sherlock detecting the hint of glee to his voice. “Herpes.”

Harry paled, and seeing the murderous look on William’s face, babbled an excuse and departed from the group in a hurry.

“So you see, even  _ if _ you hadn’t have been an arrogant prat who needs to make himself feel like a bigger man by belittling those around him, and even  _ if _ you were my type (which you’re not), there would be no way that you would have gotten to have your way with me because I would refuse to allow your infected genitals anywhere near me.” He glanced around at the small group, all staring at William who was beginning to wilt under the scrutiny. “Now, as pleasant as this has been, my brother and I are going to take our leave now. I’m feeling the need for fresh air as it seems to be rather rancid in here. Good day.”

Sherlock had been standing, frozen in awe as Mycroft tore the man to shreds, but his feet kicked into gear as his brother touched his elbow and led them away. They headed at a casual pace towards the French doors, and then sauntered out into the warm evening air, the sun only just setting. “I’m sorry you had to be subjected to that, Sherlock,” Mycroft said quietly as they walked.

“That was-” He paused, trying to find the words. “That was...so fucking unbelievably hot,” he finally managed. Watching his brother in action had left him half hard in his pants, and he longed to pull him behind a bush and kiss him. 

“Really?” Mycroft was looking at him in surprise, not realising quite the effect it would have on his brother.

“Fuck, Mycie, I  _ need _ you.” He glanced about and didn't see anyone so he took hold of his brother’s hand and began dragging him towards the entrance of the maze. 

“Sherlock, what are you doing? We ca - mpppft.” He was cut off by Sherlock’s lips against his and soon surrendered to the kiss. 

Sherlock felt heady, kissing his brother so close to where the party was in full swing, the chances of being discovered higher than usual. His cock quickly thickened and was soon painfully tight against his trousers, demanding to be set free. A raucous laugh rang out from across the garden, breaking them apart from each other. Sherlock looked about and then took Mycroft by the hand again, leading him further into the maze.

The moon was rising and with the sun only just dipping below the horizon, they easily found their way along the path. It grew darker the further they went, and soon dim solar lights began to spring to life at intervals along the way. The music and sounds of the ball fell away and it became strangely quiet. It didn't take long for them to find the centre of the maze, the large marble fountain bubbling away happily. 

Sherlock pushed Mycroft up against the rim of the fountain, and kissed his deeply, sucking on his bottom lip before flicking his tongue inside. His brother moaned softly and tightened his hold around Sherlock, one hand snaking upwards to tangle in his ebony curls. Their erections pressed against each other, and Sherlock moved his hips, dragging his cock across Mycroft’s hardness, chasing more friction. When another breathy moan escaped from Mycroft’s lips, Sherlock couldn’t contain himself any further. He dropped to his knees, not caring about the grass stains that would surely be left behind, and quickly unzipped his brother’s trousers. He reached inside and worked Mycroft’s erection out of its confines, feeling it harden even further in his palm. He leaned forward and licked a stripe up the hot flesh, feeling Mycroft’s thigh quiver at the sensation. He did it again, flicking his tongue across the frenulum, and then circled the corona. After spending a few moments laving at the head, he hollowed his cheeks and then took his brother’s cock in as deep as he could go. He reached up and gently worked at Mycroft’s balls, rolling the heavy sac in his hand, dropping his mouth every now and then to lick at the them.

A stream of low curses was coming from Mycroft’s mouth and he looked down at the sight of Sherlock on his knees in the garden. Sherlock raised his face as much as he could to make eye contact, reveling in how beautiful his brother looked under the pale moonlight. Mycroft’s skin seemed almost to glow, and his eyes were dark. A slender hand tightened in his curls and Sherlock felt the balls in his hand begin to tighten. Instead of pulling back, he relaxed his throat to take the cock in even further and soon Mycroft was grunting and spilling his release down the back of his brother’s throat. 

Sherlock remained where he was until the shudders had stopped and then gently licked Mycroft’s cock clean. He smiled up at his brother, and whilst still on his knees, opened his own zip and pulled his cock out. “I want you to watch me, Mycie,” he whispered, sliding his hand along his erection from root to tip, twisting his palm at the very top. Mycroft’s eyes widened even more and his mouth fell open slightly as he watched Sherlock work his dripping cock. “This is what you do to me,” Sherlock continued. “You make me so hard, and so very wet; I can’t keep my eyes off of you, you turn me on so much, brother mine. So sexy, so beautiful, and completely mine. Knowing that no one else will ever see you come apart the way I get to, that no one will ever touch you the way I do.” He gasped as his hand sped up, his eyes remaining locked on Mycroft’s. “Fuck, Mycie, you make me feel so good. Oh, fuck, watch me, Mycie, watch me come apart all for you, all yours, always.” His body began to spasm as his cock spurted hot semen across the pale marble of the fountain. 

Once he’d gotten his breath back. Mycroft helped him to his feet and kissed him gently. “You are such a wonder,” he whispered, gently cradling Sherlock’s cheek.

“I love you so much,” he whispered back, peppering his face with kisses.

“And I you.” Mycroft sighed. “I suppose we should make our way back to the party. Mummy will surely want to yell at us.”

Sherlock chuckled. “We  _ could _ always tell her that we both got lucky tonight.”

His brother shuddered. “I think not. Disaster that way lies.” He took hold of Sherlock’s hand and tugged him back towards the maze. “Come now, brother mine. Playtime is over for the evening.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know you've probably missed our boys so I hope you enjoyed this snippet to tide you over :)


End file.
